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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Clokw8rk on 2024-12-25 19:41:52+00:00.
Let me just say, people are dumb. Do you know what the hardest part of hunting a vampire is? No, it’s not sneaking into their lair during the day and sidestepping their thralls to get to the overgrown leech. Nor is it accidentally waking it when you drop its coffin lid on your foot and having to engage in bloody fisticuffs with a creature that could tear your own arms off and beat you to death with them. No, the hardest part is not getting charged with murder, because, “Vampires don’t exist” or “you’re a delusional psychopath” and, “why are you covered in blood?” which by the way, the correct answer most certainly is not “don't worry, it’s not my blood.”
The best one so far was “She was such a sweet old lady.” Never mind the fact that the previous night she jumped two stories and turned the neighbor's dog into the world’s most screwed up Capri-sun. Nevermind the fact she only went out at two in the morning to gas station convenience stores to seduce the most missable people she could find, despite the fact she looked like an emaciated Betty White with the face of a tube sock full of ground chuck roast and a personality half as nice. Nevermind the fact that the city started putting up missing person posters of pimply seventeen year olds with no future, the disappearances of which could be traced to a ten mile radius of her den, two police officers had gone missing, slurpee sales were down, and nobody would imagine that some frail old bag of bones who looked like she went to summer camp with Andrew Jackson could be responsible for the mutilated bodies. Like I said, people are dumb.
And yet, here I was, sitting outside this high school in a van that was a spray-painted sign reading “Free candy” away from putting me on a list. Who in their right mind would suspect that the old math teacher Mr. Hapsfield would have been a vampire? Well, if you overlooked the fact that nobody knew when he started working there, because he had been at the school longer than anyone, and anyone with half a brain and a library card could see that he had been in the yearbook since 1886. And the fact he didn’t appear in mirrors, I would know, I saw him in the bathroom while I was in a stall when I had his class ten years ago, by the way, he gave me a D. and also, his nickname in school has literally been “The Count” since sesame street first aired.
The bell had rung, my garlic chicken Chinese takeout was empty, and my new shift as the school custodian had begun. I only had a few hours to act between when the Count would retire to his coffin and night began. I’d looked into the architectural drawings of this school and noticed a subterranean boiler room that was no longer in use. That made sense as I was sure this guy was at fault for the perpetuation of the myth that teachers lived at the school. I loaded my gear into a wheelie bin and made my way back into the world’s worst babysitting service.
I swept the floors, took the trash out, and kept my eye on his room. Low pay, long hours, no dental, and a blood drinking math teacher that roams about, what’s more to want? The Count’s door opened and the lanky bean stock that was Mr. Hapsfield slithered out. He looked directly at me and approached with the facial expression of what I could only surmise as some sort of extinct desert tortoise with IBS. he made it about five feet away from my mop cart before he had to stop, his eyes teared up and his throat cleared a few times before taking a step back.
“Must you make such a dreadful concoction?”
I threw an innocent smile his way; the mop cart was full of the most powerful disinfectants I could find just so he couldn’t pick up my hormones with his fancy vampire sniffer.
“Oh, sorry there Mr. Hapsfield, apparently there was a biohazard incident in the science class, some kid got cut or something and I gotta go make sure it’s all properly sanitized.”
Bait was set.
The Count cleared his throat.
“A cut you say? Bad enough to warrant special cleaning as it were?
Ooh he’s nibbling.
“That’s what I was told, I hope the kid doesn’t have to get stitches.”
“Indeed, Say, you aren’t infor… Hold on a second.”
Uh oh.
The Count looked at me with a newfound curiosity of which I did not want for obvious reasons.
“I believe I know you.”
The Count snapped his fingers as he reached for that file in his mental filing cabinet of names, right next to information on sun lotion brands and Bram Stoker novels.
“Mckowski!”
I cringed at the mention of my name.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“So, you’re the new custodian. I must say, I’m not surprised by this turn of events.”
I could feel my eyebrows furrowing, the man had a voice that was about as exciting as a commercial for a class action lawsuit.
“Well, this is only a side job, I also run a rather successful extermination business.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Oh yeah, I found out I’m rather good at rooting out dangerous parasites. I think it might be my calling.”
The Count looked at me like he was trying to look into my soul.
“Well, I’d be careful, some pests, as you put it, are more dangerous than others”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind, but I have to finish up here, so I’ll have to talk to you later”
I walked towards him and reached out to shake hands with the devil.
“If you are as good an exterminator as you were as a student then I imagine that we will.”
The joy I will feel when I’m staking you like a naughty tent will be life changing.
The Count took my hand and immediately winced in pain. We both looked down to see my sanctified rosary beads burning into his skin. The Count let go with a hiss.
“Oops, did the pin get you? So sorry!” I said with an involuntary smirk.
“Just clean my floors, Mckowski.” The count strode away with all the humbleness of a peacock.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m great at dealing with messes!”
I let out the breath I had been holding. I knew he wouldn’t attack me in the middle of the school, but he knew what I was here for. What I also knew is that he had to rest, and I just so happened to know where he would be napping. After around an hour, I wheeled my bin full of toys to the entrance of the boiler room and made my way down. Everything was slightly damp and reeked of mold. It was clear that no one had come down there to clean in a long time and I was a very good custodian. In the corner of the room was a pine coffin. I set up my equipment and started to open the box. The lid of that pine box flew off of the coffin and cracked me in the nose. I reeled back holding my face as The Count hissed in a rage and stood over me. That was of course, when I activated the UV lights I had set up. The Count screamed in pain as he fell over and writhed on the ground. I pulled four crucifixes and placed them on each of his limbs to hold him in place. With a stake brandished I looked down at him. There was no doubt in my mind that he was anything more than feral at this point.
“Too bad you weren’t a better vampire than you were a teacher.”
I plunged the stake down into his chest. He hissed in agony as he died for a second time. I caught my breath for a moment and started cleaning up. All of my equipment in one bin, Mr. Hapsfield in the other. No one would question a custodian pushing two wheelie bins full of full trash bags. Like I said before, people are dumb, of course, that was all more reason to protect them. Killing things that messed with those poor dumb people was my business, and business was booming.